


Calling the Beast: Jean-Claude

by Savageseraph



Series: The Beast [1]
Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Angry Sex, Biting, Blood, Community: contrelamontre, F/M, First Time, Jealousy, M/M, Rivalry, Rough Sex, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-09
Updated: 2003-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageseraph/pseuds/Savageseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when a vampire and werewolf are in love with the same woman who dates but won't sleep with either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calling the Beast: Jean-Claude

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Calling the Beast: Richard](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/27732) by gotham_syren. 



> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/contrelamontre/profile)[](http://community.livejournal.com/contrelamontre/)**contrelamontre**. An improv fic with the following guidelines: The fourth of a series of sensory challenges focusing on the sense of sight. The time limit is 45 minutes.
> 
> This is a companion story to [](http://gotham-syren.livejournal.com/profile)[**gotham_syren**](http://gotham-syren.livejournal.com/)'s [ "Calling the Beast: Richard."](http://contrelamontre.livejournal.com/51851.html) Overlapping scenes from different points of view.

I never missed sunlight until I met Richard. In the soft light of my rooms, the strands of gold and copper that brightened his brown hair gleamed softly. But I wondered how they might flare in the hot light of the sun. I shook my head to dismiss the thought: it wasn't healthy for vampires to start dreaming about such things, letting the desire build in them until the morning they wait for dawn and cast themselves into the light. I had no wish to burn.

Richard didn't speak as he crossed the room. He ignored the other predators in the room, vampires and werewolves, my court and courtiers, who looked to me for a signal to stop him or allow him approach. It was no secret Richard and I did not have a cordial relationship. Two men in love with the same woman rarely did. He was supposed to be with Anita tonight, and I smelled her on him now.

Damn him! I wanted to shred his green silk shirt, open his tanned skin with my nails, and let the scent of his blood and living flesh drown out her smell. He just kept coming closer, unaware of his danger, unable to see anything but a detached calm that took centuries to perfect on my face.

"Leave us. All of you." The room emptied quickly, silently. Asher hovered near the door, and I nodded at the question in his eyes. "And Asher, we're not to be disturbed."

"Not even for Anita?"

"Especially not for her. And if she does arrive, I would prefer she not know Monsieur Zeeman is with me."

He nodded, shut the door behind him. I had put him in an unenviable position between Anita and me. The punishments I meted out to those who failed me were legend. Anita had no need for such tactics. Most of the people who failed her wound up dead.

Richard had his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans, though his head was bowed, there was tension in the set of his shoulders and hips. The scent of Anita was stronger now, cinnamon and roses, but under it was the sharp tang of desire. Richard's desire. My fingers, which had tensed and curled in anticipation of delivering a blow, relaxed.

"She sent you away."

He tensed at my words. I could have kept the satisfaction out of my voice if I had tried. I didn't.

"Have you thought about what it will be like, Jean-Claude?"

Surely he couldn't mean making love with Anita. That was even strong enough to follow me into the dark that claimed me from sunrise to sunset. "What?"

"How you'll react when I come here after she and I have had sex."

The way he spoke, like it was inevitable, had my hands around his neck, forcing his head back, baring his throat. I let my fangs graze his neck, dimpling the skin just above where his pulse beat without breaking it. Richard's nails sharpened to claws that dug into my skin. If I bit down, he would tear at me, and we wouldn't stop until one of us was dead. Anita would find out, and she would come and kill the one that was left behind. She would grow hollow and cold, maybe turn into someone like her friend Edward, a man who took pleasure in killing and little else. I couldn't have that.

I pushed Richard from me. "I could ask you the same thing, mon ami."

Richard growled, bared his teeth, then bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. "I hate every second she spends with you, but I don't have a choice. I have to share her if I want to have her at all."

The words were startling in their honestly. Bright as razors in the air the between us. And yet...there was something he wasn't saying. "She turns you away and you come here to me. Why?"

Richard shifted his weight from foot to foot, then ducked his head, turning from me just enough that his face was lost in shadow. "There is no one else...."

He could not go to Anita. He could not go to any of his pack who think that their leader and the Master of the City have negotiated an uneasy truce; if they knew the truth, that Richard was powerless to dispose of an unwanted rival, they would count it a sign of weakness and turn on him. I know how he feels as he stands there mirroring my own desire, my own frustration, speaking my own thoughts back to me. And I know why he is here, even though he does not know it himself.

Though Richard is immune to my powers of seduction, I let my voice become a caress. "It must be hard on you, mon loup."

"What?" I still could not see his face, but his body tightened at my words.

"Holding back. All the time. Burying the beast so deep inside." Richard shuddered as I touched the nape of his neck. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and I freed it, combed it with my fingers. "I know what you are, Richard. I know what it means. I've seen your beast, and I do not despise you for it."

Richard shook his head, his hair a graceful fall against the dark silk of his shirt. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening.

"You needn't hold back with me, mon loup. It wouldn't be like that between us, not like your poor friend who killed his human lover in the heat of their coupling." I reach around, turn his face toward mine. "Your passion can't shatter me."

Sweat glistened on Richard's forehead, beads of it tricked down his cheeks. His skin fascinated me, warm and tanned, kissed by the sun I had forsaken. His eyes were nearly all pupil rimmed by a band of brown that began to shimmer with flecks of gold. "Stop."

"I state a simple truth." My mouth brushed his, tongue tasted the sweat that beaded his upper lip. "I have no control over the feelings it rouses in you."

"You...don't have the power to rouse anything in me."

The words were more a challenge than a denial, and I loved a challenge. Wolves were my animal to call, and I called to Richard's beast. He stiffened as it answered; his eyes opened wide as the gold blazed through them.

"Yes. Let go, mon loup." My fingers brushed the front of his jeans. "Let go."

His reaction was immediate. His hips pressed forward into my hand even as he leaned back into me, head canting to one side, offering me his neck. If I had not already fed, I would have driven my fangs into him. I still wanted to badly enough to make them ache. Instead, I settled for running my tongue along the length of the vein that throbbed so enticingly beneath it.

"No." Richard snarled, a warning against taking more than he was willing to give. I smiled, slipped my fingers into jeans, and the snarl became a groan. He turned and brought his lips down on mine. As he backed me toward the bed, the taste of blood filled our mouths as his tongue thrust into me and drove against the points of my fangs.

I let him push me back against the cool, clean sheets, let him stretch himself above me. He ripped my shirt open, silk shredding and buttons flying. His mouth simmered against my chest. His hands traced lines of fire down my sides before his claws tore my leather pants as easily as they had the silk.

The gold of Richard's eyes when his beast takes him reminds me of the sun. I want him to make me burn.


End file.
